The Birth
by Steward Bandolier
Summary: Alone in the wilds, Morrigan struggles to give birth as her life slowly ebbs away. Sensing her desperation, the Warden braves the treacherous wilderness to reach her, while fearing that he may be too late.
1. Chapter 1

_**Preamble**_

_The God-child's birth is a major event, and probably warrants a dramatic story on its own. I don't think one like this been published here before. The female PC is of course the witch Morrigan who was in a relationship with a human noble warrior simply known as The Warden. A very humane and realistic picture of the characters is portrayed, encouraging the readers to feel compassion for them. The storyline is kept simple, but imagery is detailed. The emotions and feelings of the characters help bring them to life. Some scenes are violent, some are tender. Certain scenes may shock, but this is the aim – to evoke emotions. The overall tone of the story is quite dark and serious. Not everyone will like it, but I hope you'll enjoy reading it anyway._

* * *

She caught her reflection in the brimming bucket of water as she heaved it from the banks of the brook. Within the murky liquid, the clear outline of her face stared back at her, interrupted only by the glint of the morning sun as its rays bounced off the water's surface. She admired her eyes, a deep, piercing golden-yellow colour, so striking that even strangers would stop to remark upon their uniqueness, and her narrow, delicate nose, set above soft fuchsia lips. Her skin was pale and flawless. Her dark hair was tied loosely in a bun above her nape. Strands of soft wavy hair fell carelessly over her forehead.

By the time she was eighteen years of age, no less than a handful of men had given up their lives at her hands. Although knowledgeable in the arcane arts, it was her beauty and charm that she relied on to further her cause and satisfy her whims, whatever they may be. Men were fools, she knew, so easily distracted by the mere glimpse of a woman's ankle. But her beloved was not the same as other men. He was a Grey Warden, high-born and noble in all manner and deeds. He had been her lover and companion for a short while, yet strong as she was, she had been weakened by her feelings for him. Her thoughts strayed back to that fateful night in Redcliffe, when they had lain together for the last time and she had conceived their child. She had made him vow never to seek her out. And it seemed that he had duly obeyed. Part of her wished it weren't so. _No, I shan't think about that_! She chided herself for feeling regret. _You have no choice._ Yet, she could not but help feel a certain emptiness and longing that she had never felt before.

Her eyes cast downwards, towards her ample bosom, which had swelled considerably in the last few months. This pleased her, but for the awful soreness that accompanied it, making it painful to wear clothing lest they rubbed against her breasts. Nonetheless some form of cover was required to keep warm, even if they were mere rags, which she wore loosely around her bosom and waist. She lay her hand on her exposed belly, which was swollen and heavy with child. She had not enjoyed the way her normally slender body had swelled and become more rounded as the babe grew inside her; it was grotesque and disfiguring, she had felt. There is little elegance in one heavy with child. And she was indeed very heavy now, as she could no longer see her feet as she walked nor breathe or lie without discomfort.

_No doubt it will be over soon_, she comforted herself, as the nine months drew to a close. Still, she did not resent the life inside of her, but felt a sense of protectiveness and possibly even love towards it, which surprised her. She winced as she felt a strong kick from her womb.

The brook meandered close to her small hut deep in the Korcari Wilds. It was sturdily built with stone and wood but had long ago been abandoned, and was now her home. After the Archdemon was slain, she had returned to the wilds where she grew up, relishing the comfort that seclusion and familiarity had brought. She had ensured that no one would be able to find her easily, masking all her tracks as she made her way far into the depths of the wilds. The tales of various monstrosities and beasts that slumbered in these parts were enough to keep many a daring adventurer away. Nearby, a temple to an unknown divinity lay in ruins, undisturbed for many centuries. She had rarely ventured out, seeking only to steal necessary supplies from the nearest settlements fringing the wilds, always under the cover of darkness.

Dark clouds had gathered on the horizon and the rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, warning of an impending storm. She reached out to grasp a branch, steadying herself as she carried the bucket towards her hut. She had felt unusually drained today and thought only of lying down to rest. She had become much weaker as the months went by, which was no doubt the doing of the growing babe. And then she felt it. A strong wave of pain seared through her body as the bucket fell to her feet, drenching the ground beneath her. She lurched forwards, gasping for breath as the pain took hold, her hands clutching her belly. With great effort, she staggered into her hut. A rush of warm fluid ran down the inside of her legs. Carefully, she lowered herself onto the soft straw which served as her bed, and waited in silence until the pain passed. _It is time_, she thought to herself, and although she had prepared herself as best she could, she dreaded what was to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

The Warden gazed into the distance. He wore platemail bearing the Highever heraldry. A longsword hung from his waist, sheathed, its hilt decorated with beautiful, intricate carvings. He was considered tall for a human, and superior in form. His face wore the scars of many battles well. His eyes were a deep blue, betraying a thoughtfulness and wisdom beyond his years. His masculine jawline, a Cousland trait, complemented his strong and resilient physique. By all conventional means he was a handsome fellow. His disposition was that of the silent and guarded type, but when he was with her, he opened up. She had mesmerized him with her grace and beauty. Her tongue was sharp and she had much wit about her, but he could also see the tenderness in her that she so often tried to hide.

From where he stood, what used to be the stronghold of Ostagar, the sheer breadth of the Korcari Wilds was clear to see. Morrigan's ring, ever so quiet for months after the final battle, had finally started to call out to him. At first he fought back the urge to seek her, wanting to honour her wish to be left alone. But finally he grew restless and relented. He had sensed an increasing urgency with each passing day. He ached for her. _Had she come to harm?_ _And what of the child she carried inside her? _

And so the ring had brought him here. A storm was approaching, which will no doubt cost him some time. But he knew he was getting closer.

* * *

Flashes of lightning lit up the sky as heavy rain poured down. Creatures of the wild, big and small, sought whatever shelter they could find from the onslaught. The small hut was sparse inside, apart from a thin bed of straw on which she now laid, a broken chair, few pots and a small pit which served as a fireplace. Clean towels were folded neatly on the chair. In a warm corner, sat a small wooden crate carefully lined with soft blankets. _The babe would certainly need somewhere comfortable to sleep, for I shan't have a boisterous child keep me awake all night, _Morrigan reasoned, as she had completed the necessary preparations earlier that week.

Many hours had now passed, what seemed like days to her. A small fire burned in the pit, keeping the hut dry and warm. Morrigan lay on her makeshift bed with her back against the wall, knees drawn up, her face pale and rigid with suffering. Wave after wave of sickening pain passed through her body, relentlessly. She felt her insides twist and turn with every passing second. Beads of sweat lined her forehead. _You're strong, you've sustained far worse injuries before_, she consoled herself as she bit down on a rag. _Tis' only a birth,_ she thought, and indeed it would be an understatement to say that many have been through it before and lived. Hands shaking, she reached out to a flask of strong Dwarven brandy by her side and took a large swig from it.

Through the sounds of thunder she heard a familiar voice emanate from the corner of the room.

'Nought is gained without suffering, my dear, '

_Flemeth!_ Morrigan opened her eyes as another wave of agony tore through her. _But where...?_ Flemeth had come for the child, she knew. Dark shadows danced across the walls of her hut, but there was no sign of the old witch.

'Show yourself, mother!'

She felt a definite presence in the room, as if someone _or something_ was watching her. But she saw only shadows cast by the fire and heard only the wind howling through cracks in the wall. _You will not be taken from me, _she promised her unborn child, hugging her belly.

Soon, the flask of brandy lay on its side, empty. Delirious with pain, she cried out for him.


	3. Chapter 3

The blood-curdling scream jolted him from his slumber. _Morrigan_! He had felt her, heard her cry. _She is in need of aid_. He was sure of this. He was close, but he had not reached her yet. The dark cave where he slept had sheltered him well from the unrelenting storm, dimly lit only by a small fire, now in its dying embers. A burnt out torch lay beside it. The air was still and musty. Long, thin roots hung from the ceiling of the cave, emerging as thick undergrowth from the ground above. The Warden was quick to rise, his hand on the hilt of his sword. His senses were astute as ever as he scanned the darkness.

Not hearing anything now save for the sound of his own breathing, the Warden dropped his guard. Almost instantly, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder as an angry beast lunged at him from the darkest depths of the cave. He fell back, swinging wildly with his sword but hitting nothing. He felt the hot breath of a blight wolf at his throat. Its claws dug deep into his shoulder. With his left hand, he freed a small blade from his boot and deftly buried it into the wolf's neck, twisting the blade as it made its way through skin and muscle. The beast sank back with a howl as fresh blood spewed forth from a severed artery in its neck, an arc of blood pulsating with each heartbeat.

Hurriedly, he grabbed his torch and stirred the embers, reigniting it. Flame in hand, he turned to look around him. _Maker's breath_, he cursed, as ten pairs of glistening eyes stared back. The pack growled as they closed in on their prey, hungry for a kill.

He spun around and fled into the darkness of the cavern. Hot on his heels, the pack followed. Reaching a low ledge, he threw the torch over and he pulled himself up. As he did so he felt a sharp sting as a wolf sank its teeth into his ankle, having found an exposed area of flesh between the joints of his boot. _Blasted!_ He kicked as hard as he could, sending the wolf flying backwards. He scrambled to his feet and turned around, sword and shield to the ready. A large wolf, likely the leader of the pack, jumped the ledge and pounced at him. He parried the initial attack skilfully with his sword. But a second, quick lunge overwhelmed him and the Warden was knocked to the ground, the wolf leader on his chest, teeth bared and ready to tear his neck to pieces. With one fell swoop, he pierced the tip of his sword through the wolf's open mouth, slicing through its tongue as he plunged it deep into its throat. The wolf stiffened, and made a sickening gurgle. Frothy blood spewed onto the Warden's face as the beast fell forwards, dead.

With their leader gone, the pack was slowed and disorganised. He could try to take on the rest of them. But he was hurt, his sword arm slowed from the injury of the first attack. Taking no chances, the Warden retreated further into the caverns, running as fast as his legs could carry him. His predators followed suit. The caverns were becoming narrower, but they had also started to lead him upwards, which often meant that an exit was not far away.

The Warden stopped in his tracks as he reached a dead end. _By the_ _Maker!_ The pack was closing in on him. He reached for his sword, and spun around. The tunnel was too narrow for the wolves to pounce on him from the flanks. Nonetheless it was likely that they would quickly overwhelm him from the front. Facing the wolves, he tossed his torch at the pack, which was about twelve feet away from him. The flame seared through the air as it landed on the ground in front of them, their angry faces glowing red and orange, their teeth glistening as the fire lit up the tunnel. Quickly, he grabbed his shield and crouched behind it. Two of the wolves at the front of the pack jumped at him. His shield served well to block the attacks, whilst his sword plunged deep into their bodies, slicing through sinew and muscle as it did so. Small portions of flesh and fur flew around him. More bodies jumped on him, growling and scratching at his armor. In the ensuing struggle, he noticed that parts of the tunnel had started to give way. The strong heat from his flaming torch had weakened the low-lying earthen roof, causing it to collapse around the pack. Soon enough, rocks and earth tumbled down around him.

The Warden scrambled through an opening that had appeared above him, leaving the pack yelping far below. He clawed his way frantically through the loose earth above him, gasping for air but unable to breathe. The sudden burst of light and cold air was a welcome relief as he emerged, gulping, from the sinking ground.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three days since the storms started. And she had lain there throughout this time, labouring to birth the blasted child.

Agony and exhaustion had taken its toll. Her hair was damp and matted with sweat. She felt herself often slipping into unconsciousness, only to be awakened by searing birth pangs which had continued to intensify. The hay which she lay on was, by now, reddened and soaked with blood. She writhed and groaned in pain as she lay on her back, unclothed from the waist-down. Her legs were bent as she held her knees apart with her hands. She would try to bear down, but the babe was not forthcoming, as she expelled only gushes of blood. A dark pool had formed beneath her. She wept with frustration.

'Perhaps I should have chosen another, for regretfully you are weaker than I expected. But no matter, the babe is strong and he will live,' Flemeth's voice reappeared, although she was nowhere to be seen.

'I...I won't let you have him...I will fight you,' Morrigan breathed through gritted teeth.

The old witch laughed. 'You are in no condition to fight anyone. And you are foolish not to see the predicament you are in.'

Morrigan did not answer. Her body stiffened with pain, her breathing quick and shallow. Flemeth continued, 'I do not want your child, silly girl. Not for myself, no.'

From where the voice came from, Morrigan could make out a dark shadow as it seemed to emerge from the ground and take shape. Slowly, the outline of a woman appeared, emanating a whitish-blue glow, her long purple locks cascading down her back. _A desire demon_, Morrigan recognised. Flemeth's trickery knew no bounds. _She had somehow taken the form of a demon. The old witch was able to move between the Fade and the living realm. _She had known that Flemeth was capable of this, but had not seen it till now.

'Do you think the Darkspawn are numb to the call of their God? The essence in your child will grow with time, bringing the hoard to your doorstep soon enough. What then, will you do? Not even your beloved Warden will be able save you,' the Flemeth-demon said, mockingly.

Morrigan clenched her fists, arched her back and cried out as her body was racked with pain once more, expelling forth more blood.

The demon continued, ignoring the anguished cries of the young woman on the floor, 'With my help, the essence...and his powers...will be contained for a short while, at the very least. This is paramount. After he is born, you will allow me to cast upon him a spell that I have prepared for this very purpose.' She added with a smirk, 'if you live through this, of course. And if you don't, well, that would be highly inconvenient.'

With that, the demon was swiftly gone, much to Morrigan's relief. Flemeth would not be back for awhile, she knew, as without a physical body, even the great witch could not stray from the Fade for too long.

All her life, Morrigan had rarely felt fear, bar a few exceptions. As a small child, she had been bitten by a venomous snake, whose bite left wounds so painful that she had begged Flemeth to cut her flesh out. For a while afterwards, she had feared all but the smallest of those slithery critters. But she was not afraid when she was struck down by a group of bandits, who had left her for dead after ravaging her mercilessly on a dark path one night. Nor had she feared the many demons and abominations that she had battled alongside her beloved Warden. She was however, fearful from not knowing what was to become of the child she was about to bear. Flemeth had left out that part.

The room swirled around her. Morrigan felt a sickness rise in her as the pains continued to torment her. She turned her head sharply and vomited. She was feverish and clammy, her brow drenched with sweat. Her hands and legs were bloodied. She knew it would not be easy, but she did not expect the birthing to be _so hard._ Death would be a welcomed reprieve,_ s_he thought, and would have gladly wished it upon herself.

A familiar voice, a man's, called out to her. _My love! _She looked up, but the room remained lifeless around her. _I am imagining things._ But she knew that, unmistakably, she had felt him. _He seeks me. _And she hoped greatly that it were true. She drew some strength from that thought.


	5. Chapter 5

More time had passed. It was perhaps a day, or even two, since Flemeth had visited. Morrigan knew not how long, nor did she care anymore. She had once again drifted into a short, restless slumber. She dreamt of disturbing battles and bloodshed, punctuated frequently by the excruciating pains which wrecked her body. In her dreams she also saw her beloved Warden. He was lost and she would call out to him, but he was always too far away and could not hear her.

From a short distance away, a war cry reverberated through the stone walls of her hut, awakening her with a start. It was an inhuman sound only a vile abomination could have made, and would strike fear into anyone's heart. It was a cry she had heard many times before - of a Darkspawn Hurlock in battle. _Unexpected in these parts of the wilds_. But this was no dream. _A straggler_, she hoped. _Let it not be a pack._

She knew what she must do. Drawing on all her strength, she struggled to get up, bracing herself against the wall. It took enormous effort. Her legs felt like lead. Her head spun, blurring her vision. She was bent forwards slightly, one hand underneath her still heavily pregnant belly, the other helping to steady her body against the wall. Warm blood trickled down her thighs as she arose. Then she heard it again, louder this time. The creature was approaching her hut.

* * *

The Warden felt her presence grow stronger as he fled deeper into the Wilds. He sensed her fear and desperation. _My poor Morrigan._ The rains had continued to pour down for the fourth day. He was fast on his feet, but the thick undergrowth and unforgiving terrain made it difficult to move swiftly. Still, he must find her. He hoped that he was not too late.

* * *

She held on tightly to her staff, supporting her weight with it. She had kept it close to her at all times. It felt cold and very heavy in her hands now. She was in a greatly weakened state, she knew, but she did not intend to fall to the evil that lurked outside her home. The Hurlock grunted as it smashed through her door, sending large shrapnel of wood flying towards Morrigan. The creature was as enormous as it was foul, its dark red skin pulsating with tainted blood. Its face was truly an abomination no mother could ever love. Its eyes glowed amber in their dark, hollow sockets. It was brandishing a large battleaxe. The smell of blood, Morrigan's blood, had driven it into a frenzy.

'Die, you pathetic beast.'

Mustering as much willpower as she could manage, she took a sharp breath and, deep in concentration, conjured a fireball which blasted forth from her arms towards the creature. The strong blast ripped through her home, setting ablaze everything in its path. The Hurlock was quickly engulfed in flames, its arms flailing about. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Darkspawn skin sizzled and crackled.

Morrigan collapsed to the floor, her mana spent. Agonising birth pangs continued to tear through her belly as she stifled a cry. She found herself surrounded by flames as her home burned around her. Acrid smoke choked the air.

The Hurlock was still on its feet. It was injured and slowed, but the stubborn creature yet lived. A wall of fire stood between her and the monster. It swung its battleaxe in a huge arc, grazing her forehead as she ducked quickly. Heaving with pain, Morrigan crawled back towards the wall, as far away from the creature as possible, and prepared another spell with the little mana she had left. The Hurlock moved closer and raised its battleaxe again, aiming for the witch's head. The axe swooped down. She flinched and closed her eyes. A bolt of arcane energy shot from her hands, across the wall of fire, hitting the Hurlock squarely between the eyes. The creature fell back, stunned, axe crashing to the floor, narrowly missing Morrigan's feet. She aimed her staff at the vile creature as it shot forth mystical bolts of energy in quick succession. Finally, the creature fell to its knees, lifeless.

As she lay on the ground, exhausted, she knew that she had to escape the fire before it engulfed her, but she was too weak to move._ And if I were to perish, so will the babe._ Her hands clutched desperately at her belly as her face contorted in agony. _Please help me, my love. _She opened her legs, sensing a strong urgency to bear down. She groaned as she felt a sharp pain between her thighs.

* * *

The few Darkspawn stragglers had smelt the strong stench of blood emanating from the small hut in the middle of the wilds. The smell was intoxicating to these abominations, as if it were some sort of drug. Human blood in particular, was most attractive. The Genlock charged towards the burning hut, it's appetite whet by rage and desire.

* * *

Morrigan reached down and felt the small, soft mound of a babe's head between her legs. _It's almost over_, she thought with relief. She held her breath and continued to bear down as hard as she could, through the excruciating pain. She screamed in agony as the small, bloodied babe finally slid out of her, badly tearing her flesh as it did so. A violent gush of blood followed through. A feeling of tremendous relief immediately overcame her as she lay unmoving on the floor. She heard the yell of her newborn. She desperately wanted to touch him, to lift him into her arms. But with all her energy spent, she could only lie back and close her eyes. She felt the warm pool of blood spread slowly beneath her. At first she felt cold, which was pleasant, and then everything around her went dark and quiet. The last thing she felt was the scorching of her skin as hot cinders fell from the burning roof.

The Genlock hurled itself through the open door, faltering slightly in the overpowering heat.


	6. Chapter 6

The Warden had run after the small group of Darkspawn as he followed Morrigan's call. He could only guess that they too, were somehow drawn to the witch. He had to stop them before they reached her.

Black smoke was coming from the small hut in the middle of the wilds. Bright orange flames lit up the windows and licked the gaping hole where the front door previously stood. He heard her pained screams as he neared the hut. _She was here!_ The Genlock had swiftly disappeared through the burning doorway. The Warden followed suit, sword in hand, holding his shield up in front of his face.

The heat and thick smoke made it difficult to see. The Genlock, disturbed by the Warden's appearance, turned around, swinging his mace and landing a heavy blow onto the Warden's shield. The Warden fell back a step, as a stray fiery shingle flew into his right cheek. He composed himself quickly and lunged at the creature, pummelling it with his shield. The force was so strong that it knocked the Genlock onto the ground and into the fire. Immediately, bright flames engulfed the creature. The Warden stood astride the fallen Darkspawn and raised his sword high in the air. In a single, quick movement, the fine blade swept across the creature's neck, decapitating it. The Genlock's head fell cleanly off its body and rolled into the fire, its red, hollow eyes staring blankly. The bleeding neck stump continued to spew forth pulses of blackish blood as it lay shuddering at his feet.

'Morrigan!' He called out, blinded by the thick smoke. There was no answer. He looked around wildly.

Then he heard the unmistakeable cry of a newborn child.

_Could it be? _He ran towards it. His heart ached at the sight that greeted him. He found his beloved Morrigan lying motionless in the corner of the room. Large pools of blood covered the floor. Her body was limp, her skin grey and cold, scalded in parts. She was unclothed, except for a thin shroud over her shoulders. Between her legs lay a small infant, helpless and crying, still attached to her. A large Darkspawn carcass lay close by. Flames surrounded them threateningly. Streaks of dried blood on the walls and floor told of the desperate struggle that had ensued before she fell. It pained him that she had suffered so. He lifted her and the child with ease and ran out of the house, narrowly avoiding a falling wooden beam. The burning roof collapsed behind him as he sprinted out into the open air.

The storm had suddenly ceased. He laid the mother and child gently on the damp earth. Although still covered in blood, the infant looked unharmed. He could see that it was a boy. _My son_, he thought, as he wrapped him in a blanket and held him close, keeping him warm. He could see her in him. He turned his attention to Morrigan. Her beautiful, pale face looked so serene as he held her lifeless body in his arms. He touched the wound on her forehead. Tears welled up in his eyes as he buried his face in her neck. _Please forgive me, for_ _I am too late. _

He had not noticed the Hurlock standing behind him. The huge creature brought his maul down hard on the Warden's shoulder, knocking him forwards. The sound of metal against metal was deafening. The infant yelled in protest as he fell from his father's grasp. The Warden was stunned by the force of the blow as he lay prone on the ground. Recovering quickly, he turned around, and swiftly rolled out of the way of another incoming blow. The heavy maul landed on the earth inches away from his face.

_How dare you!_ He seethed with anger. His hand curled tightly around the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. The only other time he had felt so enraged was when he had fought to defend his family from the traitorous army that was Arl Howe's. He waited for the next blow, which came quickly, and jumped to his feet, avoiding the weapon masterfully. He swung his arm and plunged the longsword deep into the back of the Hurlock. The Darkspawn roared in pain, turning around to strike a vengeful blow. The Warden pulled his sword back and leapt at the Hurlock, striking the creature on the head with his sword's pommel and knocking the beast to the ground. The stunned beast lay at his feet, unmoving. Anger boiled inside him as the Warden lifted his right boot, bringing it down as hard as he could on the creature's face. He relished the sickening sound of skullbone crunching under his heavy armoured boot. Dark, oily blood splattered the ground. His heart pounding in his chest, the Warden fell to his knees, distraught.


	7. Chapter 7

She was a child again, back in the wilds. Flemeth had chided her for stealing silly trinkets from the travellers. It wasn't that stealing was wrong, but that she could have been caught, which would have made things a whole lot more complicated.

'Do you have any idea what they would do to you, child?'

'No.' She genuinely didn't.

'They'll lock you away in a dungeon for the rest of your pitiful little life. Your magic will be taken away from you, to use as they wished. You'll be kept alive, but barely. Things will be done to you, too horrible to mention, until you beg for a merciful death. But they know nothing of mercy.'

For a long while afterwards, she would worry about this dungeon and its unimaginable horrors. Flemeth would later refer to it as the Circle.

She was seventeen, and a strikingly beautiful girl. It was the first time she had lain with someone. It was not wholly unenjoyable. It was also the first time she had taken a man's life, the very one she had just been intimate with. Flemeth was not pleased that this had disturbed the girl.

'You will use the gift you have, to the best of your abilities.'

'I'd rather not if I can help it.'

'Stupid girl. You are weak if you should think so. He was a fool, and so deserved to die like one. You are not one of them. There is no place for remorse here. Now begone.'

She was a few years older, and wiser too. The four Grey Wardens had just left Flemeth's hut with their treatise.

'Morrigan, I have something very important to tell you.'

'A plan, mother? Why do I have a feeling it may involve our new friends?'

'Not all. Only one of them. The young one - he will survive the coming battle.'

Morrigan cocked an eyebrow. _This was going to be interesting._

'Tis' hard to believe, yes, but I speak only the truth. We will see him again soon, I will see to that. He will be the one to battle the Archdemon when the time comes.'

'The Cousland boy? You cannot be serious, mother, for he constantly looks as if he'd just lost his favourite toy.'

'Do not doubt me, child. Listen carefully, for you may not like the rest of this. I do not however, care how you feel. You must do as I say, or else everything we have worked for would be futile.'

Morrigan listened solemnly to Flemeth's plans. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she had little choice in the matter.

It was the night before the final battle of Denerim. She had enjoyed the feeling of soft silk against her skin as she lay in bed next to her Warden. They had just made love. _So it was done._ Flemeth's plan had come to fruitation. A God-child would be borne of her. But she cared not for what Flemeth had in store for her nor for the child. The Warden would live. She felt his soft breath on her neck as she lay in his arms. _Strange, _she thought, as she heard him weep.

She opened her eyes. Bright sunlight blinded her for a moment. _Was I dreaming?_ She was in the wilds again. His face came into focus. Those deep blue eyes were unmistakable. She blinked, unbelieving. _My beloved! _He was looking down at her with a bewildered expression. He had tears in his eyes.

The Warden had given her up for dead. He had held her body close to him as he knelt on the ground, grieving softly. With amazement, he watched as she stirred, her deep golden eyes returning to life. Some colour had returned to her face, although she was still deathly pale.

'My love, you live!' He was too stunned to say much.

'You seem surprised,' she replied with a hoarse whisper, smiling weakly. Her throat was parched. She suddenly became aware of the cold, realising that she was unclothed. As she caught sight of and the dead Hurlock nearby and her burning hut behind them, memories of the events that had just transpired came flooding back.

'The babe...,' Her eyes darted around in panic. She tried to rise from his arms but her limbs were too heavy. Her womanly parts throbbed with pain.

'Don't move,' he said, smiling, unable to suppress his joy at seeing her alive and breathing.

The Warden carefully held the small bundle up to her. First she saw his perfect tiny fingers, then his wrinkled little face. Tiny eyes opened and stared at up her. His eyes were a deep blue, like his father's. Her face softened as she reached out to touch her child. She held the babe tenderly to her chest, tears forming in her eyes. She felt a wave of emotions so new and strange to her. She soon found herself crying uncontrollably.

'I owe you much gratitude for saving us,' she said between sobs. She had a pained look on her face. 'Twas' my wrongdoing to stray from you, my love. I did only what I thought was best,'

'I thought of nothing but you and our child. I could never forgive myself if either of you came to harm.' His words were sincere and true. The Warden leaned in and kissed her, gently stroking her cheek as he did so. He held her tightly to his body, enjoying the softness of her skin. His lips lingered on hers for a long while.

The dark clouds had parted, revealing a light blue sky. Small critters of the wilds stirred to life again, their noises filling the air around them. The warmth of the sun on her body felt good as she lay in her lover's embrace. Her newborn babe suckled at her breast. _No doubt Flemeth will appear soon,_ Morrigan knew. But they will deal with her when the time came. As for now, she was reunited with her Warden and their child was safe in her arms.


End file.
